“I cannot believe it,” the priest repeated. He saw the sum of his long arduous journey crumbling. He turned to Stone Girl. “What do you say to this?”

Stone Girl sat with impassive face but inside she had turned to ice.

“The girl who says the lady on the painting is her mother, is she here?” she asked.

“You want to see her?” the assemblyman asked with a kind of indulgence. “She is busy getting ready for her marriage next month to a gentleman from Philadelphia. But I suppose she can come down for a few moments.” He left the room. “She’ll be here in a little while,” he said on his return.

Stone Girl waited. Then the ice in her turned to fever as she looked up and saw two figures in the doorway. One was the child who had stared at them with angry eyes before, the other a slender young lady in a graceful silk dress and with hair like willow twigs in early spring. The assemblyman gazed on her with pride.

“This is the Reverend Le Clercq,” he introduced. “And this is a young woman he brought from the Indians thinking she might be you.” He smiled faintly.

The young lady bowed to the priest but to Stone Girl and Otter Boy gave no greeting, only a measured look. Now why, Stone Girl asked herself, should the girl’s cool secure eyes fetch up in her such a feeling of hatred? She found herself speaking harshly to her in Delaware but no sign of understanding crossed Mary Stanton’s face save a kind of contempt at the sound of the guttural speech.

Her father turned sharply to the priest, who questioned Stone Girl in French, then explained in English.

“Claire asked your daughter in Delaware what Indian village she lived in.”

“Mary doesn’t speak Delaware,” her father said at once. “She was captured and adopted by the Shawanees.”

“Shawanose understand Delaware,” Stone Girl said swiftly. “Not the same but can talk together.”

“Well, fortunately,” the assemblyman explained to the priest, “Mary was taken from the Shawanees when she was still too young to remember much of anything. A Captain Karricher rescued her at the risk of his own life and she lived with the Karrichers in the Conocheague. Not till General Bouquet brought the captives to Carlisle did Mrs. Karricher hear that we were looking for our daughter. She hated to give her up but the following year brought her here and told us many true things about us that Mary had said. I saw the resemblance to my wife at once and Mary herself remembered her.”

“But she don’t remember Shawano?” Stone Girl said.

The assemblyman ignored her.

“I have already informed you,” he reminded the priest, “how short a time Mary was with the savages. For this I am thankful. Mrs. Karricher, who is my housekeeper now, is a cultivated Christian woman and brought her up as her own daughter, not as an Indian. You yourself can see the result.” He indicated the two young women as if to point out the disparity between them. “That’s all, Mary. Thank you for coming down.” He turned to the priest. “I hope you are satisfied.”